Sometimes I discover I’ve let draft posts sit much longer than desired so I slink back to them, apologize profusely, and edit until I love them. It’s been at least a year since we traveled through Saint Jo, Texas, population 12. So the year is probably correct, but the population may be off by, like, 4.
A true and proper town square cannot be beaten. It’s one thing to point someone to the downtown area, but to say you have a town square is reminiscent of Civil War-era canons and ball gowns covered in tulle. Only the itchiest of fabrics were acceptable.
Though I wasn’t able to go inside to evaluate the vintageness myself, when I peeked through the windows, it looked to be a small shop meets flea market. I’m not one to wax poetic, but I do love a good market! Especially if it’s been upgraded with a coffee shop!
Decorating the town square should be a citizen-led event; a right of passage, if you will. When I was a young girl, our tiny 1A school would have a Christmas parade through the center of town near the tomato shed. Don’t laugh. The tomato shed was iconic. It was where a platform stood that had long ago been used by people to rest on while waiting for the next train. Nothing beats driving through a small town to see how decorated and festive it is at holidays.
Can’t say I’ve ever met Howard, but he must be royalty to have his name on the theater’s marquee.
Located right outside of the “Vintage Market”, a place where folks can meet, talk, and decide on what movie to see next. Remember how in the movie Titanic, they continue to flash back and forth between what it looked like at the bottom of the ocean and how it might have looked while setting sail? My mind envisions a lovely couple sitting here, coffee between them. Or perhaps strangers passing between towns. Or even me.
_____________________
I ask you –
Do you ever think about what small towns might have looked like eons ago?
Were you raised in a small town? Tell me about it!
Just like any good slogan, I think town squares are for memories.
Running on Fumes 
I loved the small town I grew up in. I have such fond memories of the deranged lunatics that composed 97% of the population.
At least it had a dairy queen.
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Braggart. We didn’t even have a stop sign. Or a football team.
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I grew up in a small town. I used to think it was so neat when I came back from college. Now the houses are so old they are almost historic. Hanover, PA, home of Snyder’s Pretzels, Utz Potato’s Chips and some pretty cool thoroughbred horse farms.
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Sounds like a history lesson in the making! I’d love to explore it!
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General Custer was there during the civil war and the battle of Gettysburg when he uttered his quote, I ride to the sound of the guns (ignoring his orders)
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I grew up in a series of small towns in PA and VA, and have spent much of my adult life searching for the perfect small town. It seems that I was always a generation too late. Nice photos and narration! ❤
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Thank you, Cheryl! Small towns are the best, aren’t they?
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